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MP: Thrill Rides
Feb. 26th, 2010 01:31 amI learned the word cyclothymic from the King Crimson song Three of a Perfect Pair. Specifically from the lyric
It's an awesome word. Evidently it has a clinical definition, something akin to bipolar disorder, only less extreme.
The whole idea of cycle is a natural thing. Sinusoidal shapes dominate life: musical tones, ocean waves, heart beats, changing seasons, moon phases...
Moods.
Creativity.
Three weeks or so ago, I was surfing on the crest of a peak of awesomeness. I was writing, productive, confident, energetic. Two weeks ago, on a Sunday, I could feel it starting to slip, like that little jolt before the the first awful plunge of a roller coaster. From that massive height, the fall is usually dramatic and intense.
I don't like roller coasters.
And for the first time maybe ever, instead of just grabbing the metaphorical lap bar and hanging on for dear life, dreading the coming plunge, I thought, "What can I do to avoid the inevitable fall?"
It was Sunday.
I prayed.
That was a new one for me. I mean, sure, I pray every Sunday, and at other times too, but not usually for myself. And not for something like this.
I don't know if it was an answered prayer, or the awareness that maybe I could change what was coming, the act of taking an action towards that change, but something happened.
I haven't avoided it. But by being aware of the fall coming, and consciously deciding I didn't want to plummet to a depth that would correspond to the height I'd been soaring at, I think I managed to turn the Cyclothymic Cyclone into something a little more like the kiddie coaster.
I'm definitely not at the peak I was at before, and there have been some rocky moments in the last two weeks, where I've found myself unexpectedly teary, unbearably touchy, uncomfortably unsure. But it isn't a depression. It isn't even cyclothymia. The curves are leveling out, and I'm sort of settling back into a shallower rhythm that feels less thrilling than the high, but certainly less wretched than the low.
I don't think I'll ever stop craving the highs, but I really, really like the idea that I don't have to be a victim of my own brain. I'm still thinking about the role prayer played in this. It's a lot to think about. It sure feels like the hand of the Divine moving in my life.
He has his contradicting views
She has her cyclothymic moods
They make a study in despair
Three of a perfect pair
It's an awesome word. Evidently it has a clinical definition, something akin to bipolar disorder, only less extreme.
The whole idea of cycle is a natural thing. Sinusoidal shapes dominate life: musical tones, ocean waves, heart beats, changing seasons, moon phases...
Moods.
Creativity.
Three weeks or so ago, I was surfing on the crest of a peak of awesomeness. I was writing, productive, confident, energetic. Two weeks ago, on a Sunday, I could feel it starting to slip, like that little jolt before the the first awful plunge of a roller coaster. From that massive height, the fall is usually dramatic and intense.
I don't like roller coasters.
And for the first time maybe ever, instead of just grabbing the metaphorical lap bar and hanging on for dear life, dreading the coming plunge, I thought, "What can I do to avoid the inevitable fall?"
It was Sunday.
I prayed.
That was a new one for me. I mean, sure, I pray every Sunday, and at other times too, but not usually for myself. And not for something like this.
I don't know if it was an answered prayer, or the awareness that maybe I could change what was coming, the act of taking an action towards that change, but something happened.
I haven't avoided it. But by being aware of the fall coming, and consciously deciding I didn't want to plummet to a depth that would correspond to the height I'd been soaring at, I think I managed to turn the Cyclothymic Cyclone into something a little more like the kiddie coaster.
I'm definitely not at the peak I was at before, and there have been some rocky moments in the last two weeks, where I've found myself unexpectedly teary, unbearably touchy, uncomfortably unsure. But it isn't a depression. It isn't even cyclothymia. The curves are leveling out, and I'm sort of settling back into a shallower rhythm that feels less thrilling than the high, but certainly less wretched than the low.
I don't think I'll ever stop craving the highs, but I really, really like the idea that I don't have to be a victim of my own brain. I'm still thinking about the role prayer played in this. It's a lot to think about. It sure feels like the hand of the Divine moving in my life.